


Wish You Were Here

by SailorLestrade



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Challenge Response, Dean is a bit of a dick, F/M, Happy Ending, Singing, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 13:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10877517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorLestrade/pseuds/SailorLestrade
Summary: Dean pisses you off...again





	Wish You Were Here

**Author's Note:**

> This was wrote for @supernatural-jackles birthday challenge! I hope you enjoy and happy (early) birthday!!

You set in the library, fiddling with the cheap, second hand guitar you had scored at a garage sale a few months back. It wasn’t as nice as your mom’s had been, but it was gone. It was a beautiful instrument, your mom’s guitar was. It had been a darker finish that shined just right in the light. She had taken very good care of it until her hands wouldn’t quite work with her anymore and she couldn’t play it. And when her mind started slipping, the guitar had ended up in your care. You had it with you all the time. When you went out on the road in search of adventure, it was in the case in the backseat. When you literally fell into Dean Winchester’s lap, it had been a selling feature that earned you a kiss and the title of Dean’s girlfriend. Then one day, it was gone. It had been in the trunk of the Impala when the car had been total, splintering the guitar to pieces.

And along with that went your dreams.

Dean knew how much the guitar meant to you, and how much you wanted to just sing on stage, to make your mom proud. So when you were out one day with him, he drove away from your home towards another town where he had seen a classified ad. Musical instruments for sale. Using money you and him had, you had just enough to buy the guitar that was yours now. His initials were carved into the varnish on the side, and there were a few stickers that Sam had bought you that decorated the front. It wasn’t your mom’s guitar, but it was yours, and that’s all that mattered.

“Hey babe.” Dean said as he came into the library, settling in the chair across from you. “What are you up to?”

“Tuning.” You responded before putting your guitar pick between your teeth. You were always losing them, so Dean had bought you a bunch of them on a supply run. Especially after seeing how painful it was on your fingers. But your favorite one, the one you used on the chances that you got to sing at open mic night at one of the bars in town, was the Pink Floyd one that Dean had given you one night after hearing you sing to him.

“I can see that.” He joked. He loved watching you mess with your guitar, the way that your nose curled up in frustration or how happy you would get when you finally nailed the chords for a song that you couldn’t quite get. “Why though?”

“I have a gig tomorrow night.” You said simply.

“You do?” Dean asked, making you stop what you were doing. You looked up at him.

“Yeah. You said you would be there, remember?” You set your guitar down and leaned forward in your chair to watch Dean.

“Yeah, sorry, but Sammy and I are about to head out. There’s a hunter a couple towns over that has a lead on Cas and Kelly.”

“But, you promised.” You said. You knew you sounded whiney, but you didn’t care. Dean had promised.

“Sorry, but this is a little more important.” Dean said. He realized too late what he had said. “(Y/n)…”

“No. I don’t want to hear it.” You grumbled. You picked up your guitar and headed towards the spare room that used to be your bedroom.

“Oh, come on (Y/n).” Dean said. “If this baby is born, you know damn well that your singing won’t matter.” You spun around and glared the older hunter down with cold eyes.

“It might not matter to you, but it sure as hell matters to me.” You hissed at him. “And if you don’t want to be there, fine. See if I care.” With that, you slammed the door shut and locked it. You knew that Sam had the keys to every room in this place, but he knew better than to invade your personal space.

“Come on (Y/n)! You don’t have to be so childish!” Dean hit the door before walking off, leaving a seething, yet hearbroken you behind.

****

Dean and Sam left that evening and you stayed behind, working on an angry song you wanted to sing at open mic night. But the more you tried, the more you realized that it wouldn’t work for you. You needed something else. Something that made you think of your mom, because she always gave you strength. You glanced down at Dean’s initials on the side of your guitar and the pick in your hand, and you knew what you had to do. Going to the bookcase in the corner, you dug through dusty sheet music books, finding the right one.

The cover was a picture of the album. You had picked it up at a flea market back in high school. You hadn’t mastered as many of the songs in this one as you had in the couple other album books you owned by them, but you knew one. And after a little refresher, it was the perfect song choice. You settled on your bed, guitar in your lap, and stared down at the book, getting to work.

****

“Sammy, I think I messed up.” Dean told Sam as they settled in their motel for the night.

“What did you do this time?” Sam asked. Dean sighed.

“I promised (Y/n) I’d go to her thing tomorrow night, completely forgot, and then I told her that it wasn’t important.” Dean said. Sam stared at his brother.

“Dude. How has she not killed you?” Sam asked. “Why didn’t you stay behind? I could’ve handled this on my own?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just so stubborn that I wanted to spite her.” Dean set on his bed with a groan. “What should I do? This was really important to her. I don’t know how to fix it.” Sam watched his brother.

“Well, it’s too late to head back to the bunker now. I’m sure she’s asleep and you’re probably the last person she wants to see.” Sam said. “But I think there’s a music store in town. And I have a picture of what that old strap for her mom’s guitar looks like.” Dean jumped up.

“Give me the picture.” Dean said. “I got a couple hundreds that say they’ll be able to have it ready for tomorrow.” Sam laughed and sent Dean the picture. It was a picture of you sitting under a tree, showing Jody’s girls how to easily get certain chords. Dean smiled softly at the picture before heading out the door.

****

You woke up the next morning expecting to smell breakfast coming from the kitchen. But there were no smells of pancakes or anything. There was no sound of Dean complaining about Sam’s healthy food or Sam getting mad at Dean’s food for sprouting its own ecosystem from sitting in the fridge for too long. You wrapped a blanket around yourself, ignoring your phone for the time being, and made your way into the kitchen for food. You thought about heading out early today, just so you weren’t there when the boys got home. If they were coming home today. Because either you would be fighting or making up with Dean, and either way, you wouldn’t make it to your performance.

You made yourself some warmed up Poptarts and milk, loving and hating the silence at the same time. The bunker was cold and lonely without Sam and Dean hanging around. You had been left there by yourself many times. You finished your breakfast quickly and went back to get your bag, guitar, and phone. You saw missed texts from Dean, but you chose to ignore them. You knew he was probably going to apologize for being an ass, but you really didn’t have the time to deal with him. You made sure you had your sheet music in your guitar case before locking up the bunker and leaving in your car.

****

It was early in the evening when the Winchester’s returned to the bunker. Dean noticed immediately that your car was gone when they walked into the garage. Dean held the wrapped box in his hand that he had planned to give to you if you were home. But from the looks of it, you had probably been gone for a while. 

“Dean? You okay?” Sam asked.

“I missed her.” Dean sighed. “I don’t even remember which place she’s playing at tonight.” Sam pushed him back towards the car.

“Then we better get a move on.” Sam said. “I’m not listening to your lovesick whining anymore and I really don’t want to watch her bust her guitar over your head.” Dean glared at his brother.

“I’m not whining.” Dean said quietly. Sam stared his brother down.

“Dude, if you whine anymore I’m going to start calling you Moaning Myrtle.” Sam said. “And before you say it, I haven’t made a Harry Potter reference yet today and I’m allowed one.” Dean pouted but got in the car and headed into town.

****

“You think this is the right place?” Sam asked as Dean and he made their way into the bar. People were chatting at tables as a performer left the stage in front of them. The boys found and empty table and placed their orders with the waitress while they waited to see if you were here or not. Dean kept searching the room, but couldn’t find you.

“I hope so.” He said. “Just have a feeling that she’s here.” Sam nodded then looked up at the stage as the next performer came out. There were about two more after that and Dean was starting to think he had chosen the wrong place when you came on stage, dragging a stool behind you. You adjusted the mic and took your place on the stool. You couldn’t see many people in the audience, but you looked down at the initials on your guitar, took a deep breath, and started strumming.

“Is that Pink Floyd?” Sam asked as he looked over at Dean. But Dean was too busy watching you playing your guitar to realize that Sam had been talking to him.

“So…so you think you can tell, heaven from hell, blue skies from pain? Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rain? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?” You sang out, afraid that your voice was going to fail you but it came out strong. Everyone in the room could feel the emotion that you were putting into the song. You had a couple things fueling the emotions as you sang.

“Woah.” Sam whispered. He knew that you were musically talented, but he had no idea how amazing you sounded in a setting like this. Dean just set forward in his chair and watched you, seeing the tears in your eyes as you sang.

“Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change?” She looked out over the crowd and she swore she saw Sam and Dean sitting in the audience. But that couldn’t be. They had more important things to do than watch her sing. “And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?”

You launched into the rest of the song, closing your eyes for a moment. You imagined your mom up there with you, her guitar in her hands and a smile on her face. She was singing with you and guiding you through it. She wanted to help you get your dream. She wanted you to be happy. You opened your eyes then and looked into a pair of beautiful green eyes. You almost gasped into the mic you were singing into. He was smiling at you, completely into the song you were singing. You didn’t realize until it was too late that a tear had fallen down your face.

“How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl year after year. Running over the same old ground. And how we found the same old fears.” You looked right at Dean as you finished up the singing the song. “Wish you were here.”

You finished up to a loud round of applause before leaving the stage. Dean got up from the table, motioning for Sam to stay and talk to the waitress. He made his way backstage and found you sitting in the hallway. He set down by you, leaning up against the wall.

“I’m guessing you were ignoring my texts?” Dean asked. You sighed.

“I just needed to stay in my own head.” You explained. You looked up at Dean. “I’m sorry for over reacting.”

“No. I’m sorry for not listening.” Dean said. “And for just being a dick.” He put the box in your lap. “I got this for you. To say I’m sorry.” You looked down and opened the box, seeing the guitar strap laying there. You picked it up gently, afraid it would snap like the other one had, but it was in perfect condition. You wrapped your arms around Dean. He held you close to his chest with a smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You whispered. He kissed the top of your head.

“Anything for you (Y/n).”


End file.
